


Day 363: No Dungeons, One Dragon

by nire



Series: Fast Times At Westeros University [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fraternities & Sororities, Gen, No Dungeons & Dragons Knowledge Required, No really the mechanic is thin on the ground, aka the only DnD that has rights, just know there are Shenanigans, my eternal thanks to Samirant for letting me do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nire/pseuds/nire
Summary: Tyrion brings his game to Westeros U.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Fast Times At Westeros University [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763917
Comments: 28
Kudos: 111





	Day 363: No Dungeons, One Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> So. Samirant let me play in her sandbox of fraternities and sororities, and I was one good excuse away from making our favorite characters play Dungeons & Dragons. Thank you, Sami! You're a babe.

Today was officially the weirdest day of Brienne’s life, and that included all the rush and pledge traditions she’d gone through. The reason was this: today she was in the Sun Pi Xi house, a fraternity that accepted both male and female pledges, traditions be damned, where the rooms were swathed in various autumnal colours and occupied by ridiculously sensual-looking people.

And if being in Sun Pi Xi by itself was odd, playing dungeons and dragons here with Jaime’s brother as their DM was even more bizarre. He was fifteen. By all accounts, he shouldn’t be here, except he was apparently a boy genius who was days away from starting college at this very campus.

The Suns’ president, Oberyn Martell, was sitting with them in one of the many slightly filthy bean bags. Right now, he was giving a monologue, a small cardboard token aloft in his hand as he described the philandering ways of his tiefling bard.

“The Viper, a beautiful bard whose poetry is only rivalled by the poison of his blade. He walks into the tavern, leans forward and makes eye contact with the barkeep.”

“ _What can I do for you?_ ” Tyrion said with a gruff approximation of a half-orc’s voice. It was actually quite impressive.

“Ah,” Oberyn said breathily, “what _can’t_ someone as beautiful as you do for me?”

Bronn asked the question they all were wondering: “Are all bards this slutty?”

Oberyn raised a finger delicately. “No slut-shaming in my house.” He let the statement hang for two long seconds, then added, “There’s no sense in playing a prudish bard.”

They all looked at Tyrion, who despite being the youngest among them, had played and watched more campaigns than the lot of them combined.

“He’s not wrong,” Tyrion said. “They’re not often _this_ much, but then, player’s choice.”

“Thank you,” Oberyn said. “I ask the barkeep for his strongest ale.”

“ _Only one kind of ale there is,_ ” Tyrion said. “The barkeep slides you a tankard. _‘That’ll be two gold coins.’_ ”

“Two gold’s a bit steep, isn’t it?”

“ _Ale’s three coppers. The rest is for wasting my time._ ”

Oberyn gives Tyrion a smile. “I give him two gold coins and a note on where he can find me tonight.”

Tyrion smirked. “The barkeep can’t read.”

Jaime guffawed, and Tyrion smoothly moved on to the rest of the introductions. To no one’s surprise, Bronn jumped at the chance to play a rogue. One mention of sneaking and backstabbing and he was in.

Jaime was a paladin—Oath of Devotion, in fact, a true knight who never wavered despite the bloody reputation assigned to him. It was so much backstory for a one-shot campaign, but from the way Tyrion rolled his eyes fondly at the introduction, Brienne gathered that Jaime had played this character before with Tyrion.

Pod played a cleric, and only because Tyrion pointedly remarked that they needed a healer. And then, it was Brienne’s turn.

She sighed, long and weary. She chose a fighter, this time, rather than her usual paladin, because Jaime nabbed that class first and she was not about to play the same class as him. “My character is called Ser.”

“Ser what?” Jaime asked, peeking at her character sheet.

She pulled it away and placed it face down. “Ser nothing. She wears her helmet at all times, she doesn’t speak, no one even knows she’s a woman. No one’s ever seen her outside of her armour. She works for coin and sometimes out of pity, and she’s only good at killing things.”

Jaime leaned back, watching her with a look she did not like, but said nothing.

She continued. “Ser walks into the tavern and immediately goes to the board where people post odd jobs.”

Tyrion looks at his notes, from behind the hulking screen, then pops back up. “You see a job to slay a dragon that’s been terrorizing the countryside.”

Oberyn jumped in. “The Viper, upon seeing this mysterious, gallant personage, sidles up to them and tries to read the job posting over their shoulder.”

“Do you try to be stealthy?” Tyrion asked.

“No, I want the tall stranger to notice me.”

Tyrion looked at Brienne. “You feel someone hovering behind you.”

“I swing my fist at them.” Without being prompted, Brienne immediately rolled her d20. “Does an eighteen hit?”

Oberyn, looking wounded as though Brienne had well and truly struck him, said, forlorn, “My armor class is fourteen.”

She rolled her d6. “The Viper takes five damage.”

Tyrion ducked behind his DM screen, noting the damage. When he popped back up, he said, “You do realize that you’re supposed to work together to defeat the dragon, rather than punching each other?”

“As if you’d let a bunch of first-level adventurers take on an actual dragon,” Jaime said, scoffing. “You’re a better DM than that.”

“What, there’s no dragons? The game’s called Dungeons and Dragons, you tits! You saying there’s not gonna be a dungeon either?” Bronn exclaimed. “And why’s she get to fight and I don’t?”

“No one’s really stopping you,” Jaime said, to the horror of both Tyrion and Brienne.

Bronn said, “I pick up a chair and swing at the slutty bard with it.”

Tyrion sputtered. “Are you—you can’t be serious—”

“I use healing word to heal the Viper for”—Pod rolled—“3 hit points.”

“I attack the Viper with my longsword,” Jaime said. “He seems suspect and Kingslayer doesn’t like him.”

“No! No, you asses, you’re not supposed to PvP this shit!”

Bronn began chanting: “Bar brawl, bar brawl, bar brawl, BAR BRAWL!”

A few Suns began to follow in the chant, despite being in a frat house and not in a bar, and it was only broken by Tyrion bellowing, “FINE, ROLL INITIATIVE, THEN, SEE IF I CARE.”

One bar brawl and subsequent short rest later, they were at last ready to face this ‘dragon’ that was terrorizing the countryside.

Except, of course, the lakeside plains really had a dragon problem. Tyrion described the beast in great detail—more detail than the entire tavern and the countryside got—up to the pearlescent sheen of its scales, its intelligent yet vicious gaze, and by the end of it Bronn was convinced that the young teen was, in fact, a furry.

“The term,” Tyrion said, “is scalie. Dragons don’t have fur.”

“Monsterfucker!” Bronn crowed with glee.

“The way he described it, I’d spend a memorable night with that dragon, too,” Oberyn said, and no one asked if he was speaking as himself or his character. At this point, they were one and the same.

Tyrion high fived Oberyn, then said, “Under the dragon’s head is a pile of scorched bones.”

“Do we know what kind of bones they are?” Oberyn asked.

“Roll a perception check,” Tyrion said. “All of you. DC fifteen.”

Pod squeaked by at exactly fifteen. Brienne got eighteen. Bronn got sixteen—he rolled a thirteen, but had a plus three to perception. Oberyn rolled a nat twenty, and Jaime… Jaime rolled a measly two.

“Pod, Brienne, and Bronn. You see the dragon, and you know the bones are not human.”

Pod raised a hand, as though he were in class. “Do we know if the dragon is friendly?”

“The dragon seems defensive, but you don’t know how friendly it is.”

Pod makes a thoughtful hum and notes it down on his notebook. He was, so far, taking the most notes out of them all.

“Oberyn, with your nat twenty, you know the bones are not human, and also not livestock animal bones. You see this dragon and as it turns its head to look you in the eyes, you can discern not only intelligence, but also reason. This dragon is no animal. This dragon is sentient.”

“Very good,” Oberyn said. “I undo the top two buttons on my doublet and blow a kiss at the dragon.”

“Very disturbing,” Tyrion said mildly, before continuing, “Jaime, you think the bones are human and you believe, in your hearts of hearts, that the dragon is going to eat you.”

Jaime did not look disappointed. In fact, he looked gleeful. “I charge at the dragon.”

“Halt, Kingslayer!” Oberyn called out.

Jaime shot back, “I never trusted you, Viper!” Jaime looked at Tyrion and asked, very seriously, “How far away are we from the dragon?”

“A hundred and fifty feet or so? Your javelin can only go a hundred twenty.”

“My speed’s thirty, so I can move forward thirty feet and then throw the javelin.”

Tyrion’s mouth was drawn in a tight line, a face Brienne was intensely familiar with. That was the face every dungeon master made every time their player was trying to pull of something intensely stupid. “Are you positive you want to attack a dragon as a first level paladin?”

“Are you telling me to use meta knowledge in my character’s decision-making, rather than roleplay him faithfully?” Jaime asked, his face a mask of false innocence.

Tyrion sighed. “You charge forward thirty feet. Make your attack roll with disadvantage.”

“Hold on. Can I attack him?” Bronn asked, pointing at Jaime with a thumb.

Tyrion looked aghast. “I told you, you’re not supposed to—”

“Nah, I just want to stop him from being an idiot. Didn’t you say earlier I can attack someone leaving my range or something?”

Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s an opportunity attack and you can only do it with enemies.”

“Yeah well, what if I never trusted any of you shits all along? In this world, I’m my own ally.”

“Even if you can attack him, “ Tyrion said, “It would not stop his movement unless you bring him to zero.”

“Can’t I shove him sideways as I punch him or something?”

Actually, Bronn’s plan was not bad. Better than initiating combat with a dragon, that was for sure. She was about to pipe in when Tyrion said, “Roll your attack, then you and Jaime can roll opposed athletics to see if you can knock him down.”

Bronn got a crit on his attack.

Not only was Jaime tackled, he also lost consciousness, had to roll death saves, and ended up relying on Pod’s eternal kindness to heal him back to life.

Somehow, Tyrion still managed to get the dragon to direct them to the actual quest. They went and retrieved the dragon’s treasure from a group goblin thieves, levelled up, and by some miracle completed the adventure without a perma-death, considering their cleric already lost a spell slot to heal Jaime from Bronn’s tackle.

Later that night, in Jaime’s bed, Brienne said, “I would’ve let you die.”

He nuzzled her neck. “The good, honorable Ser? Let me die? That’s just cruel.”

She gently shoved him aside, not that it improved anything. He wordlessly detached himself but was now looking at her like a woebegone, kicked puppy. Wrong choice, Tarth. He’d been very clingy lately, and whenever she brought it up he claimed he had to make the last few days before school count for something, the pest. At least no one had caught on to her and Jaime’s… thing, yet. “You’re a liability to the party.”

“I had _one_ bad roll.”

“You wanted to roll badly. You were waiting for an excuse to charge at the dragon and were all too happy when the dice listened to you.”

“Put a pin on the whole sentient dice belief you have there, but can you blame me? I wanted to impress the lady knight.” When Brienne rolled her eyes, Jaime added, “I also wanted to see how Tyrion reacted. Should’ve known not to bring an actual dragon into it.”

“He’ll make you pay for that, you know.” Oberyn had liked the experience so much he declared it a weekly game, and Tyrion had been tasked with devising a long campaign for them. Tyrion agreed readily and, right on the spot, declared that he would rush for Sun Pi Xi.

“He met Oberyn _one time_ and now he’s treating the Lans like dirt.” Tyrion never did anything so drastic to the Lans, of course, only sort of ignored it in favor of the co-ed frat, but to Jaime it was all the same. He was taking the loss of his younger brother’s idolizing hard. He said, aggrieved, “I’m his brother. When I told him everyone calls them the Pixies, he said he always wanted to be a magical creature! Can you believe him?”

Brienne recalled the moment of shared understanding between Oberyn and Tyrion, when they were talking about the dragon—or rather, what they’d do to and with the dragon. “Can _you_?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jaime said, begrudgingly. “Hey, you never told me you’ve played D&D before.”

She rolled away from him so he couldn’t see her face. Tonight was not the night she told him about all the home games she had played with her brother. “Good night, Jaime.”

He kissed the nape of her neck. “Night, good Ser.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this entire fic is just me trying to rewrite that dragon-charging scene. Yes, maybe they should have rolled insight instead of perception, but don't @ me.
> 
> If you haven't read the main fic in this series, [Rush Me All Night Long](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140989), what are you waiting for?


End file.
